


kiss it better (do it right)

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol's uncovered eye shoots open wide and accusing before drawing back into a tight squint. "You broke my face and I have to use it tomorrow."</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss it better (do it right)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://taonsil.tumblr.com/post/106904730043/otpprompts-imagine-your-otp-getting-ready-for)
> 
> more chantao needed in the world tbh  
> why is this my first fic of the year  
> (I listened to a playlist called 'I'm sorry I hurt you' for a lot of this)

Zitao feels as though he's been awake for roughly two months. An official after party followed by an after-after party running into the morning of their flight definitely hadn't been one of his better ideas. Concerts the same day as the flight are an overall bad idea entirely, and at the time Jackson's boisterous company and the dregs of adrenaline left from their wins that night made the passing hours not seem like a big deal. Zitao hadn't made it a long enough night to see the sunrise; when they departed for Japan four hours later it was that detail he blamed for why he regretted every second beyond midnight that he'd spent not sleeping.  
  
Zitao's only just spent five minutes studying his reflection in the bathroom mirror — even zombies have to maintain their skincare routines, those are the rules. But the long mirror over the desk has a bar of light above it and the benefit of the room's warm glow, and Zitao looks considerably less fatigued in this one. He's glad he had the foresight to call shotgun on the bathroom before they'd even left the venue, much to Chanyeol's bewildered annoyance ("Where the  _hell_  did you learn that? It doesn't even apply to this." "Experience, hyung.").  
  
Retrieving his phone from the nightstand, Zitao flops down onto the edge of the bed, kept upright with elbows propped on thighs. He was excited to be back in Japan when they landed, during the show, while he filmed his ridiculous boyfriend trying to scale a tree on the way back here. Now he just misses Candy. He's tired in a way that aches down beyond the strain of the concert but wound too tight to relax. Candy stares up at him from his lock screen and Zitao turns his phone in his hands. He wishes he could call her. His eyes feel too heavy and sunken to even look through his  _Candy and daddy_  folder.  
  
  
Chanyeol emerges from the bathroom during Zitao's moment of reflection, hair drooped from the steam, Tshirt and boxers sticking to his damp body. It's not often they only have the option of a bath and it's a really deep one — Chanyeol's fingers are pruney and he doesn't even care.  
  
Zitao appears so absorbed in whatever he's looking at that he doesn't acknowledge the slight dip in the mattress when Chanyeol sits on his own side. Chanyeol squints at the hunch of his shoulders, peers around enough to see now that Zitao is staring down at his phone. It's not like Zitao to be unalert. Looks like an opportunity, Chanyeol thinks.  
  
Or not so much bothers to give thought, but somewhere along the line decides as he's climbing up onto his knees. It's a combination of a firm mattress with quiet springs and determination that gets Chanyeol across the bed unnoticed, inching forward little by little, tiny shifts on his hands and knees.  
  
Zitao has drooped considerably by the time Chanyeol is level with his broad back. Chanyeol might suspect him asleep if it weren't for the slow, continual flick of his thumb over his phone's screen. Still awake, still unaware that he's dating arguably one of, if not  _the_  most stealthy members.  
  
Chanyeol carefully kneels up, weight balancing on his knees and toes dug into the mattress. There's a slight shift, springs crunching. He freezes, but Zitao still doesn't appear to expect a thing. Awesome.  
  
Lining himself up, breath bated, Chanyeol digs his knees in deeper and raises his hands, readying to pounce. "Gotch—"  
  
Chanyeol's arms fling around Zitao's shoulders. His chest hasn't even come into contact with Zitao's back when Zitao abruptly turns, arm swiping upward. There's an audible thud as the point of Zitao's elbow connects somewhere between Chanyeol's cheekbone and nose.  
  
Zitao reacted before he even let out a surprised shriek. That follows a split second later and is quickly followed by a second scream of horror when he turns to find his assailant rolling on his back, clutching at his cheek, very familiar.  
  
"Hyung! Oh my god, hyung," Zitao nearly overshoots the nightstand as he throws his phone aside, clambering onto the bed beside Chanyeol. "I'm so sorry, it's just, my reflexes—"  
  
"Fuck," Chanyeol splutters, eyes watery and squeezed shut as he presses his palm hard to his face. "The fuck— Why would you—"  
  
"Reflexes!" Zitao wails. "I didn't mean to!"  
  
Chanyeol's uncovered eye shoots open wide and accusing before drawing back into a tight squint. "You broke my face and I have to use it tomorrow."  
  
"I'm so sorry," Zitao pats heavy-handedly over Chanyeol's hip, his shoulder, feeling like he should be doing  _something_. But he's fretting and it's not exactly the best nursing Chanyeol has ever had, being shoved and smacked. "Oh my god," Zitao wails again. "You shouldn't creep up on me!" He doesn't add that Chanyeol should know full well that he's jumpy (even more so in unfamiliar places), because he's trying his hardest to leave that image behind, but really.  
  
Chanyeol abruptly stops languishing. "Are you saying it's my fault?"  
  
Zitao gives him a tense look as he squirms to sit back upright, both hands as support and his wounded face uncovered. It's a little pink, though it's hard to tell whether that was Zitao's work or Chanyeol's own. "Are you ok? You don't feel dizzy or anything?"  
  
"No. Just mortally wounded." Chanyeol pokes cautiously underneath his eye. The hiss he lets out startles Zitao back, hands dropping away from Chanyeol's shoulders. "Scarred for life, probably. By my own boyfriend. With two shows to do."  
  
"It was an  _accident_ , hyung." Settling back, Zitao hugs his knees to his chest. He can only feel so bad when it wasn't  _his_  fault his dumb boyfriend decided to scare him when he's running on minus hours sleep.   
  
Chanyeol sniffs, gently touches along his cheekbone. "Attacking me when I was trying to do something nice," he continues, then folds his arms over his chest. "You'd better kiss it better  _really_  well."  
  
"Oh." Zitao blinks at Chanyeol, in case that was sarcastic and he'd missed it. Chanyeol just stares him out, waiting. "Oh. Of course."   
  
"It really hurts," Chanyeol reminds Zitao as he folds his legs back under himself, kneeling in close. "How would you like it if someone hit you here. Right on this sensitive part, probably really easy to fracture." Chanyeol demonstrates by jabbing a finger against Zitao's cheekbone. "Who's going to want me to model for them now? What does my future hold?"  
  
Zitao knocks his hand away. "I dunno, hyung. Where does it hurt?"  
  
Tilting his wounded side toward Zitao, Chanyeol taps the apple of his cheek. " _Gently_."  
  
And Zitao does kiss it very gently. Partly on account of the way their noses get in the way, the tip of his own pressing to Chanyeol's bridge. He purses back a smile and tries again, less of a brush and more a soft, warm peck this time.   
  
"Better?"  
  
Chanyeol considers this for a long moment, then shakes his head. Zitao pouts. At least the drama distracted him from feeling dead.  
  
  
Chanyeol's not much of a cuddler at bedtime - runs too hot at night and finds too many complaints to make about Zitao's insistence on being little spoon (tickly hair, broad back, overly friendly butt). He likes hands, though. Loose-grip, sweaty palms, misaimed holds to wrists, fingers reaching for fingers in the night. They do hands.  
  
Chanyeol tugs at Zitao's thumb, voice gruff with sleep as he asks, "You still awake?"  
  
"Mmhm," Zitao sounds with his face deep in his pillow. They only turned out the light a few minutes ago but he feels as though he's been woken from hibernation. "Is it still hurting?"  
  
It's still hurting, yes, and it needs kissing again. Locating the precise spot again in the dark isn't particularly easy, not aided at all by Chanyeol grumbling, 'here, no,  _here_ ' into pitch darkness. Zitao gets there eventually, though, sleep-heavy and sloping down against Chanyeol.  
  
"This bed is awesome," Chanyeol notes, and Zitao only half unintentionally misaims with the next kiss, humming agreement beside Chanyeol's nose. "It's gonna bruise," Chanyeol says, gets another kiss in reward. Zitao feels him smile.  
  
"You don't sound so worried about it now."  
  
Chanyeol shrugs against Zitao's side. "It feels like it has a pulse. Kinda annoying."  
  
"I miss Candy," Zitao says softly in reply, out of place but this time there's reciprocation when he presses a pout to Chanyeol's lips. Chanyeol misses her, too, although the breaks from sneezing aren't a downside. "Sorry, hyung. 'm gonna sleep now."  
  
"Yeah." Chanyeol shifts onto his side, effectively throwing Zitao off of where he was leaning and onto his own space on the mattress.  
Zitao's fingers barely twitch against his palm as he settles their hands back together. "Night," Chanyeol yawns, unsurprised when there's no reply.


End file.
